


known by heart.

by outpastthemoat



Series: song of songs [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, sentimental drivel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outpastthemoat/pseuds/outpastthemoat
Summary: Dean's been thinking, somewhere off in the back of his mind, that he knows Castiel by heart, that he’s got him pegged, that he knows everything there is to know about him.





	known by heart.

"Dean," Castiel says to him that morning, "I think I'm in love."

Dean's left standing there, mouth hanging open, letting coffee drip down the front of his shirt, too startled to do anything about it. He just stares at him, bewildered, bowled over, flustered: Castiel's in earnest, of course he fucking is; he's got that small smile on his face. Dean knows that smile. Dean thinks he might mean it.

"No way," he says. "No fucking way. Not true," he says, and that small smile fades away and Castiel's shoulders hunch up, and Dean knows what that means: he's gonna go cold on him, Castiel gets that way when he thinks he's being made fun of. When he thinks Dean's making fun of him.

"Of course it's true," Castiel says shortly. "I wanted to talk to you about it."

"What's there to talk about?" Dean snaps. "You're not in love. It's- ridiculous, frankly," he says, because it is ridiculous, it is absolutely absurd, because if Castiel was in love, he wouldn't be telling Dean about it: Dean would already know.

Because Dean knows him, okay. He’s always thought that he knows Castiel better than anyone else. Dean knows him by heart. He knows that Castiel doesn't like the way toast crumbles all over his fingers when he tries to eat it, he knows that Castiel will always run the light if it's yellow but will slam on the breaks at the last minute at four way stops right at the last fucking minute. He knows Castiel's favorite color, favorite shirt, favorite brand of laundry detergent, favorite record in Dean's music collection. Dean knows him backwards and forwards, knows Castiel to be a morning person even if he doesn't seem like the type.

Dean knows all Castiel's looks. He knows the way Castiel looks when he’s mildly disappointed in Dean’s choice of restaurant, Dean knows the way Castiel looks when he thinks Dean is an absolute tool. He knows just the way Castiel will drop his chin and narrow his eyes when he's pissed off and about to throw down, he knows just the way Castiel tucks his hand in his coat pockets when he's feeling thoughtful. Dean knows just how he moves in a fight, he knows when Castiel is gonna go in for the kill. Dean knows him, okay, and if he’s being honest he’d admit that he’s been a little smug about it, too. Like even though God and His angels can’t even get a grasp on what makes Castiel tick, he can. He knows that Calvin and Hobbs comic strips make Castiel laugh out loud. He knows what movies will make him cry: that Castiel had tears in his eyes at the end of Fifth Element. He knows what makes Castiel mad, and sometimes he even pulls that fucking card, just to prove it to himself.

Like now.

Now Dean’s left wincing and rubbing his face, looking after Castiel’s retreating back in complete bewilderment, getting a good long look at those hunched up shoulders, and he’s not feeling so smug about it. Yeah, he knows how to get Castiel to sucker punch him in the jaw. Okay. So what.

Turns out he doesn't know Castiel as well as he'd thought.

He needs to pay more attention.

Dean watches him a little more closely in the days that follow. Because he's missed something, he's missed something important. All this time he's thought he knows Castiel so well, but he must not have been paying close enough attention after all, to have missed something big like this.

How could I have missed it? he keeps asking himself. He hasn't considered before how Castiel would look, if he ever fell in love. Dean hadn't thought about what Castiel would do, or say. Maybe when Castiel is in love, he's the kind of in-love that sings along to every love song that comes on the radio. Maybe he's the kind of in-love that writes poetry on napkins or the backs of gas station recipets, maybe he's the kind of in-love that keeps a picture in his wallet of his beloved and looks at it all day. Dean doesn't know. And if he doesn't know Castiel-in-love, if he doesn't know what's in Castiel's heart, then maybe he doesn't really know Castiel at all.

But as far as he can tell, there's nothing special coming over this new Castiel-in-love. Dean checks Castiel's coat pockets but he doesn't find any poems, just a crumbled wad of the post-it note with a smiley face that Dean had stuck on top of his pancakes yesterday morning when Castiel complained that Sam's stack had a whipped cream and strawberry face and his didn't; Dean stops by the bathroom door when Castiel's in the shower and listens close but Castiel isn't singing love songs, just Led Zeppelin tracks. Dean checks Castiel's wallet but the only picture there is one that Bobby took years ago, Sam and Dean with arms around each other's shoulders and just grinning like idiots, Dean can't even remember why. Dean just can't figure it out, when Castiel had gotten to be such a fucking enigma. And he's got to understand, so he plays that damn Zep album until two in the morning, and he lays on his bed and pulls up pictures on his phone. Here's Castiel, blurry and frowning with the sun in his face and one hand shading his eyes. Here's another with Castiel, not very drunk at all and politely holding an almost-empty beer, and Dean, very drunk, leaning over Castiel shoulder to take the picture.

Dean gets a feeling when he looks at Castiel, he can’t figure it out. This one, the selfie Castiel had sent him when he first got his cell phone, of Castiel’s face, too close to the camera, slightly cross-eyed. He looks silly in that one - Dean hadn’t even known Castiel could look silly. He looks at those photographs until he’s memorized the way the corners of Castiel’s eyes crinckle when he’s standing in the sun, until he’s memorized the way Castiel can’t quite manage to look directly at the camera in any selfie he takes. Dean looks at pictures of Castiel until he knows them by heart.

Dean can't learn anything from this. He is wondering morosely just who is Castiel supposed to be in love with, anyways. When would he have a spare moment to go out and meet anybody? He's always hanging around Dean and Sam. Here's another picture, this one is good. Sam must've taken it, because it's just him and Castiel, standing next to the Impala, just talking, not even looking at the camera. Castiel is looking at him and he's smiling just a little at whatever it is Dean is saying. It's nothing special, it's a look that Dean has seen on Castiel's face almost every day since he showed up on their doorstep with a dusty bag of thrift store clothes and a worn-out pair of boots on his feet. It's just an everyday look. Castiel looks at him like that over a cup of coffee and when their eyes meet in the rearview mirror and from across the table every night at dinner. It's just -

His heart skips a beat.

"Oh," Dean says.

It's just the way Castiel looks when he is in love.

\--

 

He finds Castiel in his own room, listening to the walkman Dean fixed up for him. Zeppelin, of course, the same track Dean's had on repeat for the last two days.

Castiel is carefully not-quite-looking at him and oh, Dean knows what that means. He hurt him, before. "Oh, Cas," he says, "I'm so sorry-" and then he can't go on because it hurts to much to try to get words around this ache in his throat, and Castiel finally looks up, and it's that everyday look again, fond and maybe a little exasperated. And now Dean knows what it means.

“Dean. Why are you looking at me like that?” Castiel asks.

“I don’t know,’ Dean says, and then he does, and it’s so stupidly simple that he can’t believe he hasn’t seen it before. After all, it’s in his own heart too.

"I just wanted to tell you," he says, "that I think I might be in love, too."

He watches the way Castiel’s face lights up at that. Eyes wide and mouth falling open. It's fear and then hope and then something different. It's a look he has never seen before, something blissful and certain and so fucking thankful. Like a million stars lighting up the night. It nearly takes Dean’s breath away. He had not known that Castiel could look like that. And suddenly he wants more than anything to make Castiel look like that again. Every morning and every night, he wants to see that look a hundred thousand times dawning over Castiel's face. He wants to study that look. Wants to memorize it, he's got to learn it by heart, up and down and sideways, every way imaginable.

Maybe Dean knows him better than he's been thinking, because he knows exactly what this look means. It's the way Castiel looks when he knows he is loved.

He can’t stop looking at that look on Castiel's face. He wants to see Castiel with that look on his face in the early morning light that comes in through Dean's window. He wants to see that look on Castiel's face while leaning back against the headboard of Dean's bed. He wants to make Castiel look like that over and over again.

Dean wants to know if Castiel would have that look on his face if Dean kissed him senseless.

\--

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart. - 1 Samuel 16:7


End file.
